CHAPTER VII.
HAGGARD COMES INTO HIS OWN.
Old Justice Haggard had died rather suddenly. He had been ailing forseveral weeks; as his son had remarked, his handwriting had been thefirst symptom of the breakdown. His articulation, too, had becomethickened, and one evening he was found seated in his chair by his studyfire speechless, his face painfully drawn on one side; within an hour hehad peacefully passed away.
The king was dead, long live the king. Reginald Haggard came into hisown. But though Haggard had talked of settling down into a countymagnate in the case of his father's death, when that event happened hefailed to do so.
"I couldn't stand it, you know. The dreadful dinners and the dreadfulpeople would have finished me, I think," he had said.
So after the funeral, Haggard returned to The Warren, but not before hehad given the old steward final and definite instructions, which causedthat worthy man's hair to almost stand on end.
"Cunningham," he said, "if you want to remain on the estate as mysteward, you'll have to alter the state of things here. My father, youknow, muddled along in a happy-go-lucky sort of way. As long as his pigstook the first prize at the county shows he was happy. That was hisambition. Now, Cunningham, you'll have to make the place pay. There area lot of old servants, old pensioners and old horses, all eating theirheads off here, and doing no work. You'll have to make a clean sweep ofthe lot. Were I to attempt to do it myself they'd worry my life out. NowI want you to act as a buffer. From your decisions there is to be noappeal. They are to look to you, and not to me. As I said, the placemust be made to pay, that's the first point; the second is, that I amnot to be bothered. It used to amuse my father to sit in hisjustice-room every morning and to be perpetually receiving and answeringletters from all sorts of people about the place. That sort of thingwon't suit me. You know as well as I do that my father got nothing outof the place."
"Sir----" began the Scotchman.
"Wait till I have done, Cunningham, and you will see that you havenothing to say. I know what you are going to tell me. That it is my dutyto come and live in this place, with these yokels, to have the ague atleast twice a year, as my father did before me, and to ask my friendsdown in September to shoot my partridges. Those were my father's views,they're not mine. As to the house, I shall let it, and I shall do thesame with the shooting. With regard to the property, if you can get anincome out of it for me, well and good; if you can't, I don't supposeanybody can; and in that case I intend to be shot of the whole bag oftricks."
"Ye wud'na think of pairting with the property, sir," said theastonished steward; "it's been your fathers' before you for centuries."
"It must pay me three per cent., Cunningham, or I shall assuredly sellit. Of course any legal liability I have I must fulfil; but there's beena good deal too much sentiment lately in the management of the place. Myfather was fond of pigs and paupers; I can't say I care for either. Youwill grant no new leases except at their full value. If Dick can't get aliving out of a farm, that's no reason for letting him have it rentfree. The estate must be improved, Cunningham--as a property. Youunderstand me, I take it?"
"I could'na fail to do that, Mr. Reginald."
The steward carried out his instructions. It is needless to say thatReginald Haggard became unpopular. Ash Priory was let; the oldservants, those few who had any work left in them, got new and harderplaces at less wages; those who were past work went into the poor-house.The Haggard estate actually returned three per cent on its marketvalue, and everybody in the neighbourhood of the Priory agreed that Mr.Cunningham the steward was an exceedingly hard man.
Haggard was very particular about one thing. A large diamond-shapedhatchment on which the arms of the Haggards were emblazoned came downfrom town and was duly affixed over the principal entrance to thePriory.
"It's to stay up for a year mind, Cunningham, tenant or no tenant, andthen you can take it down and burn it if you like."
The death of Justice Haggard caused the postponement of the proposedvisit to Walls End Castle, and it was not till more than a yearafterwards that the old earl's eyes were gladdened by the sight of hisfavourite, his great-nephew's wife.
During the year of mourning, Georgie Haggard presented her husband witha son. The child had been born at The Warren. Their recent mourning hadeffectually prevented the Haggards from going much into society, sorather against the grain, Haggard had consented to remain the guest ofhis father-in-law, varying the monotony of his long stay at The Warrenby an occasional run up to town. At first he had proposed a furnishedhouse, but he had been warned by the local practitioner that it would beunwise and imprudent to subject his wife to unnecessary fatigue, or tolet her lose the benefit of the air of her native place. There was notmuch fuss made on the arrival of the little George; he, poor littlechap, was provided with a humble attendant from the village, Fanchettebeing still retained to minister to the wants, whims and foibles of theelder child.
Miss Lucy Warrender had enjoyed the successive delights of two Londonseasons; she went everywhere, she was as much admired as ever. LucyWarrender was not a mere beauty to be stared at; she was a brilliantconversationalist and possessed considerable powers of repartee. She hadan artless way of administering cruel stabs to her female acquaintanceswhich frequently turned them into enemies. When Mrs. Charmington hadinnocently asked her whether she considered her proposed appearance uponthe stage _infra dig._, she had replied that she thought her friendcouldn't do better, "for," added she gently, "they tell me, dear Mrs.Charmington, that actresses never grow old." Lucy Warrender had not beenwithout her triumphs; she had had several offers, and good offers too,but she refused them all, and Lucy Warrender was Lucy Warrender still.Excitement was an absolute necessity to Lucy; there was a persistentcraving in her mind for something new, and a ceaseless round ofamusement was what she could not do without. Many girls would haveknocked up from the effects of continuous late hours, heated rooms andhigh living, but Lucy seemed to thrive upon it. She was now nearlytwo-and-twenty, and from the time she had been able to think she hadnever troubled herself about anybody's comfort but her own. The maternalinstinct had never been awakened in her; she petted the little Luciussimply because he was good-looking, and because she knew that awell-dressed, good-looking young person engaged in petting a child whois also well-dressed and good-looking is a pleasant and picturesqueobject. Just in the same way she was accustomed to hang on her uncle'sarm and gaze up into his face, not because she cared one iota for heruncle, but because she considered it an effective tableau. The solereason that Lucy Warrender never accepted any of the good offers whichshe received was, that she thought herself better off as her ownmistress. If Lucy Warrender had been a man, she would have been one ofthose wholly unobjectionable persons, one of those single-mindedindividuals, whose life is passed in trying to get the greatest possibleamount of personal enjoyment out of this world. As we know, Lucy was nottroubled with what is called a heart; true she had made what she nowconsidered a mistake at the outset, but she had burnt her fingers soseverely that from that time she was never likely again to lapse fromher religion of self-worship. When they had first returned fromSwitzerland, she had had considerable cause for anxiety, for the fear ofbeing found out had troubled her a good deal, but that shadow hadgradually passed away and the whole affair now seemed to her merely likea troubled dream, which she still remembered in a vague sort of way.
Happy, tranquil and contented, Miss Lucy Warrender, looking fresh as arose, sat down to the well-furnished breakfast-table at The Warren andturned over in a meditative manner the three or four letters which hadarrived for her by the morning's post. Miss Warrender was a wise youngwoman; she always ate her breakfast first and postponed the perusal ofher correspondence till the meal was over. She put her letters in herpocket, as was her custom, and did full justice to the substantial mealwhich graced the squire's board; at its conclusion, provided with one ofher favourite yellow-coloured novels, she lounged into the gardenprepared to get through the mornin
g with the least possible amount oftrouble to herself. She sat down in a shady nook of the rose garden andread two of her letters, gossipy effusions from female acquaintances;then she took up the last letter, which was on thin paper and addressedin a legible but foreign-looking hand. She opened it carelessly, but asher eyes fell upon the contents she drew herself up, suddenly thecolour left her lips. This was what she read:
"131, Gerard Street, Soho.
"MADAME,
"I trust you will excuse the liberty I take in addressing you on a little matter which concerns myself. Circumstances compelled me to leave the service of Mr. Haggard while you and madame were at the Villa Lambert. I have now, madame, to trespass on your kindness, in asking you to assist me in my present intention of re-entering that gentleman's service. I have no reason to believe, madame, that during the time I acted as Mr. Haggard's valet I failed to give satisfaction. It is to ask you to use your kind influence with my former master that I now address you. His valet, I understand, is about to leave him. It probably is in your power, madame, to enable me to obtain my old position once more. Should you feel inclined to use your influence in my behalf I shall be for ever grateful. I may tell you, madame, that business took me to the village of Auray; what I learned at Auray I shall look upon as a secret confided to my honour. I shall write to Mr. Haggard to-day to apply for the situation. Trusting, madame, that you will give me your powerful aid in this matter, I remain,
"Very respectfully, "Your humble servant, "MAURICE CAPT.
"P.S.--It will be unnecessary to answer this letter, as I feel I can count upon your generosity."
There was no mistake. Lucy had taken every precaution; she had lookedupon the old scandal as dead and comfortably buried, buried in the graveof the Parisian cemetery in which lay the unfortunate Hephzibah.
She ground her little white teeth, as she saw the spectre rise once morein a new and uncompromising shape; an unpleasant feeling of utterhelplessness filled her soul. Had her successful intrigues been all tono purpose after all? She had no doubt in her own mind as to what it wasthat Maurice Capt had learnt at the village of Auray. Capt had notwritten to ask her for money; she felt that he would probably name theprice for his silence later on. In the meantime, she knew that thehumble request of the Swiss valet was a politely-worded command whichshe dared not disobey; and she dreaded his presence, filled with thehorrid fear of its consequences. It was even possible, she thought, thather cousin in her sudden terror might incontinently make a clean breastof the whole matter to her husband, or even to the squire. When one hasfelt perfectly secure, it is extremely painful to see all one'scarefully-elaborated combinations instantaneously collapse. As has beensaid, Lucy Warrender was in the habit of looking upon servants as merefurniture, but here was a piece of furniture suddenly developed into amost substantial bogey.
At first Lucy was disposed to take her cousin into her confidence, butthen she thought, and thought rightly, that Georgina would make a verybad conspirator. Perhaps after all the valet might consent to be bribed;she remembered with pleasure that he was discretion itself, so shecalmly resolved to adopt what doctors call an expectant policy; that isto say, to do nothing at all, and to patiently await the turn of events.
She was not kept long in suspense. While they were at dinner thatevening, Haggard mentioned to the squire that he had just received aletter from his old servant.
"I think the confounded impudence of that rascal Capt has somethingalmost sublime in it. He bolts in a mysterious manner when he was leftin charge of the girls, and now he calmly proposes to come back to meagain."
"Of course you won't think of taking him," replied the squire.
"Take him, I'd see him hanged first, as he will be one of these days, ifhe gets his deserts. Why, Georgie, what's the matter?"
And well might Haggard exclaim, for young Mrs. Haggard was staring ather husband, her eyes wild with terror.
"How terribly stupid you men are; don't you see that she's fainting,Reginald," cried Lucy as she hurried to her cousin's side. "The heat'ssomething dreadful, and it has quite overcome her," said thesympathizing cousin, as she cleverly covered Georgie's retreat from theroom.
In a few minutes she reappeared.
"It was nothing after all, as I supposed. She is lying down, and will beherself again very shortly. What was it you were saying, Reginald, aboutCapt?"
"Oh, I had forgotten the rascal; merely that he coolly suggests that Ishould take him on again. He wasn't a bad servant, you know, quite whata servant should be--a mere machine. I wonder what made him bolt in thatunaccountable way, Lucy?"
"Didn't we tell you?" said the girl. "It was some lovers' quarrelbetween him and Hephzibah; she was never the same girl after hedisappeared; quite a little back-stairs comedy."
"Which turned into a tragedy though when the poor girl died," said thesquire; "I suppose when he bolted she broke her heart."
"You are getting quite romantic, uncle," said Lucy; "people in her classof life don't break their hearts, they only do their work worse thanusual."
"I know one thing," said Haggard, "he was the best man I ever had, andif it wasn't for his confounded cheek, I should be glad to get him back.I suppose if I did though he'd commence upon Fanchette, and turn herhead."
"I fancy Fanchette can take very good care of herself. I don't thinkyou need hesitate on her account if you really want him," carelesslythrew in Miss Warrender.
"It wouldn't be a bad idea," said Haggard meditatively. "My presentfellow insists on smoking my cigars, and absolutely declines to wear mynew boots. I hate wearing boots for the first time. I think I'll givethe fellow a chance after all."
A week afterwards Maurice Capt was installed. To Lucy's intenseastonishment, not one word did he breathe to her of his researches atthe secluded village of Auray. But she felt that they understood oneanother. Gradually she came to the conclusion that she had bought thevalet's silence at a very cheap price. He was glad to get back his goodplace, and that was probably all he wanted; he dropped no hint orinnuendo of his discoveries, if he had made any, and he made no attemptat blackmailing.
Mademoiselle Fanchette was at first very attentive to the valet, andseemed to think less than ever of the "_homme_" in Algeria. But Mr.Capt, though very courteous to Fanchette, did not respond to heradvances; perhaps he was yet sorrowing for the dead Hephzibah. StillFanchette secured a gossip to whom she could confide her numeroustroubles, and Haggard felt that he had done wisely in having once moreobtained the invaluable services of the faithful Swiss.
It has been stated that the King's Warreners were divided into tworeligious camps--the upper classes and the labourers going to church,while the smaller tradespeople sat under the Reverend Boanerges Smiter,an eloquent young Baptist minister, who had wrestled in vain for thirtyyears of his life with cruel letter H. It was the dream of Mr. Smiter'slife to empty the old-fashioned pews of the parish church. With thisintention he worked hard; he preached, he lectured, he even atconsiderable trouble obtained a sort of reputation as a pulpit comedian,but he forgot that the seats of Gilgal Chapel were hard, while the oldbaize-lined pews at King's Warren Church were high and comfortable, andseemed to say to their occupants, "Here your slumbers will beundisturbed," also that the vicar never preached for more than twentyminutes. Rev. B. Smiter (for somehow or other the definite article isalways left out before the title of a dissenting minister) was aningenious man. It was through his exertions that Gilgal stood proudlyupon its own freehold, and that it possessed actual cash at the bank.When Mr. Smiter first came to King's Warren the funds of Gilgal Chapelwere in a very bad state indeed. The community was in debt for rent, thepastor lived in a little lodging in the village, his stipend was of thesmallest, and the chapel was badly out of repair. But Rev. BoanergesSmiter was equal to the occasion. He was the original inventor of theGreat Avalanche System. He got into his little pulpit one day, and heprea
ched his great sermon on the text "Ask and ye shall have," and thenhe explained to his hearers the details of the Great Avalanche System.He told them, what they well knew, that they were in King's Warren acomparatively small body of relatively poor people. "Many a time andoft," said he, "have my predecessors stood here, and urged you, my dearbrothers and sisters, to give to the needs of this chapel. Mypredecessors have ever resembled the young ravens in their persistentcry, 'Give, Give;' and you, my dear brothers and sisters, have given,you've responded manfully, but what has been the result? Gilgal is asbadly off as ever. We are but a small handful of Israelites in a greatland of Egypt, and we are oppressed by Pharaoh; for Pharaoh, clad inpurple and fine linen, takes tithes of all we possess." (Did he refer topoor Jack Dodd as Pharaoh?) "But you will all remember that Mosesordered the children of Israel to spoil the Egyptians, and it will beour duty, nay our privilege, to do to these modern Egyptians as did ourprototypes, the children of Israel, to Pharaoh and his subjects. Whatdoes Gilgal want? Gilgal wants to be out of debt. Gilgal wants asuitable residence for its pastor. Gilgal wants a new roof, and Gilgalwould be all the better for a new organ. Now, my friends, did theEgyptians assist the unfortunate Israelites? Not a bit of it. Why theywouldn't even give them straw to make their bricks with. But though theywouldn't give them any straw, yet they yielded up to them after a timetheir jewels of silver and their jewels of gold, for we read that theIsraelites spoiled the Egyptians. I am going to ask you for yourcharity, and I am going to head the subscription myself. Don't be castdown, my friends, at the single shilling which your pastor is about tosubscribe. I trust that we shall obtain the roof, the freehold, thesuitable residence for the pastor, nay, even the organ; for fifteenhundred pounds will do all this. Fifteen hundred pounds seems a largesum to you, my brethren, but it is easily to be obtained. And remarkthe pleasant fact that it will be obtained from the Egyptians. It isyour charity I ask, but not your money, for the charity I require issimply vicarious. Let me go more into detail and make myself thoroughlyunderstood. How is an avalanche first formed? A tiny mass of snow slipsdown from the top of some lofty mountain; that tiny mass is my originalshilling. As the mass falls, it sets in motion other portions largerthan itself. Gradually at first, and slowly, the little heap slides downthe steep declivity. Its velocity increases, as does its volume--it atlength becomes irresistible; enormously and indefinitely multiplied, itat last reaches the valley, no longer a tiny mass of snow, but a vastavalanche, which carries all before it, trees, rocks, and even villagesbeing torn away by the irresistible force of the tremendous aggregation.Such is the Great Avalanche System. I am 'A,' and I subscribe ashilling. I now call upon four of you to stand up, each in his place,and you four will each contribute but a humble shilling."
All the adults in the congregation of Gilgal stood up as one man.
"No, my friends," said the pastor, "I need but four, but four femalefriends. Four of my sisters will be my 'B's,' my busy bees; each 'B'will select four 'C's,' from each of whom she will obtain a shilling.She will register their names and addresses, and request them to do asshe herself has done, and each four 'D's' to contribute a similaramount; and so on, my friends, through all the letters of the alphabet.
"The human heart is hard. There are many of us who would look twice atthat shilling if we were asked for it as a simple contribution. But itis not a simple contribution, for it carries with it a privilege--itenables the person who has paid his or her shilling to exact a similaramount from four personal friends; and though the original giver hascontributed but a single shilling, that giver has the pleasure ofhanding in an amount which is practically incalculable. I know theworld, my brethren, and I know that as a rule the world is very gladindeed to get off for a shilling. Alas, many of the most activecontributors to the numerous Missionary Societies of this country neverput a single penny into the missionary boxes with which they are alwaysglad to be provided; for the missionary box is an outward and visiblesign of respectability, and a perpetual rod in pickle for friends,relatives, and rebellious children.
"Already, my friends, in my mind's eye I see Gilgal standing proudlyupon its own freehold, I see it provided with the roof it so much needs,and mentally I already dwell in the comfortable residence allotted toits pastor. I even hear the sweet strains of the much-desired Americanorgan. And all this is no dream; in a few short weeks, my friends, itwill be a delightful reality. And what will be our chief incentive tothe work? Why the fact that all this money has been obtained, not fromthe little congregation of Gilgal, but from the Egyptian, from haughtyPharaoh and his countless host."
Then he gave out the hymn.
Rev. Boanerges Smiter was right. The thing came off. The money pouredin, and the Reverend Smiter's original shilling was turned, as by thetouch of the enchanter's wand, into fifteen hundred pounds. Thirtythousand victims had been indirectly teased and pestered by Smiter, atthe least possible amount of trouble to himself; but all had had theirrevenge, save the last batch, in finding four other shilling victims,and each of them had obtained for a ridiculously small sum a characterfor active benevolence. Who is there in this wicked world who would notconsider a character for active benevolence cheap at a shilling?
It was indirectly due to Rev. B. Smiter that the vicar received thecruel snubbing which was a joke against him in King's Warren for therest of his natural life. The congregation of Gilgal held open-airmeetings upon the village green at the end of summer as a sort ofcounter demonstration to the harvest festivals of the church. There wasno Salvation Army in those days, and in a little place like King'sWarren even such a mild excitement as an open-air meeting is verywelcome. Besides the real congregation on the village green there wasalways a considerable gallery of curious onlookers, "scoffers," as theywere termed by the "elect." Rev. B. Smiter had been very successful atthese meetings. They really did a certain amount of good, for some whohad come to laugh remained to pray. In the particular summer to which Iam referring Mr. Smiter had gone to the expense of engaging what intheatrical circles would be termed a popular favourite. This was thewell-known 'Appy 'Arry.
'Appy 'Arry was a character in his way. He had been a noted pugilist; hehad even fought for the championship, and he took the punishment hereceived on that memorable occasion in a very plucky manner. If 'Arryhad won the fight he would doubtless have subsided into the pugilist'swell-merited haven of rest--a sporting public house. But the fateswilled it otherwise, and 'Arry was converted and took to religion. Theman was perfectly sincere, and many a rough fellow owed his conversionfrom drink and debauchery to 'Appy 'Arry. His was a rude kind ofeloquence that went straight to the hearts of the majority of his malehearers. He would retail his exciting experiences as a pugilist and adrunkard with much gusto. He would tell in minute detail the history ofhis great but unsuccessful struggle for the champion's belt; and as hedilated on the wicked glories of his former life he would say with apleasant smile, "And was I 'appy, my brothers? No, I was not 'appy, forI hadn't got religion."
Haggard and the vicar were looking on at one of the revival meetings,and 'Appy 'Arry was holding forth with his accustomed fervour.
"I've given it all up now. I don't associate with the swells now. Many'sthe time, my brethren, as I've had on the gloves with dooks andbaronites, and other sporting swells," and here his eye fell upon theamused countenance of the Reverend John Dodd. "Ay, and with fightingparsons, too," he said.
The Reverend Jack blushed.
"But I looks on 'em now as men of sin; they used to be proud to shake'ands with 'Arry in his bad days, but I've shook 'em off, my brothers,and I don't foregather now with the likes of them. Don't you think it'sno yarns I'm telling you, my friends; why, there's one of 'em now,a-looking on. Oh, how I wish that fighting parson was as 'appy as I amnow; and if he'd only listen to me in a proper spirit he might be; buthe won't, my brethren, and why won't he? Because 'is 'art is 'ard.Many's the merry round I've 'ad with the gloves with 'Andsome Jack Dodd,as is a-standing there. Why, he was one of my backers when I fought thebutch
er on Moulsey Hurst, and licked him, too, for the matter of that!'Andsome Jack Dodd was proud to shake 'ands with 'Arry in those days.But will 'Appy 'Arry shake hands with him now? No, my brethren. And forwhy? Becos he ain't got religion."
And then the preacher sat down, and Haggard and the Rev. John Dodd beata hasty retreat. Haggard told the story to Mrs. Dodd that very evening.It was a rather mean thing to do, but Haggard was a man of impulse.